


Size is Fundamental

by Moreena



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreena/pseuds/Moreena
Summary: Quatre has a thing for Trowa being bigger and stronger than him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noelleian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/gifts).



> Pure indulgent smut, unbeta'd, written in like an hour. I wanted to write something with Quatre loving that Trowa's got such big strong hands. Also an attempt to help un-writer-block someone. ;) Also I love Quatre as being smaller/shorter and Trowa as bigger/taller.

Quatre had never really thought of it as a fetish, until Duo had brought it up one time when they’d been out drinking. Quatre was only on his second beer, unwilling to drink more both to make sure Duo got home alright, and because he didn’t care for alcohol.

“It’s a thing Quat. Like, a real thing. In the gay scene they call you a twink, and you.” Duo laughed like the next bit was the juiciest bit of news since finding out Heero actually had sex. “You my friend, have a thing for bears!”

Duo promptly dissolved into a fit of giggles, his cheeks red, face pressed to the cool wood of the bar they sat at.

“I don’t like my men super hairy like a bear, thank you very much,” Quatre spouted, voice full of sass. “I just prefer men who are physically bigger than me. There is nothing wrong with having a preference for a certain kind of guy.”

“I don’t judge you, I just like to laugh at your expense,” Duo chirped in, turning to smile at his friend.

The conversation drifted to other things, but Quatre knew that his braided friend was right. Over the years since the war, he’d taken time to learn things about himself and his body. He’d dated several men, very discreetly. And, he’d come to find that despite hoping he’d grow, he’d stopped at a mere 5’8”, and wouldn’t grow a hair higher. He’d never been bulky either, so his frame was slender, with toned muscle. He was trim, almost slightly effeminate, if he were pushed to say so. His blonde hair hadn’t changed, it still fell into and around his face, framing his jaw and slightly round face. His eyes were still that brilliant blue of a clear sky, and he looked younger than his twenty-four years. He was more than alright with that! It meant he’d still look good when he was pushing fifty.

After a few dates, he found himself changing his preferences. He wanted men taller than him. More muscle wasn’t required, but it was a damned fine sight and feel. Quatre loved the feeling of large hands touching him; from a hand at the small of his back, guiding him around, to fingers pressed into his thighs as they held his legs up to plunder his body. It was a sensation that never failed to send shivers of delight up and down his spine like a spark of electricity. He’d grown bored with dating after a time though. He was busy, and some men didn’t get that. 

That had all changed when Trowa came back into his life for his twenty-first birthday.

 

They’d kept in touch over the years, Quatre silently pushing his feelings for the brunette into a little box he locked away with the tallest walls he could muster. He didn’t begrudge Trowa for not staying, or falling in love with him. They’d both been young, had needed to do soul searching and figure out who they were on their own. It made them better men, to know who exactly they were.

For his birthday, all Quatre had wanted was to have his friends over, dinner, drinks. Bad action movies. The usual guy thing. So, the other pilots had agreed. What they hadn’t told Quatre was they’d planned to get him completely obliterated for his ‘coming of age’. By implicit agreement, his drink was never more than half empty, and he didn’t even know what he was drinking. At some point, he’d blacked out. He only came to when he felt things moving, and he knew they shouldn’t be. He’d been sitting on the couch, not up in the air. Opening his eyes, he had to suppress a shudder.

Trowa had really grown into his body. He’d always been lanky, with legs that seemed to go on for days. But, he’d grown even taller. He easily dwarfed Quatre’s small frame, coming in at an impressive 6’3”, and the rest of him had filled out to match. While he’d had muscle before, he seemed to have really filled out. Quatre couldn’t even wrap a hand around his friend’s bicep. Trowa’s green eyes had been more than amused watching Quatre try to grasp his arm. Being carried against that strong chest, in arms that didn’t even quake at supporting the blonde’s weight went right to Quatre’s cock. Trowa had denied him that night when the blonde had offered to thank him for his help, though Quatre could tell he hadn’t wanted to say so.

Two days later, when the hangover from hell had finally been driven away, Trowa had been more than willing to take him up on that offer. He and Trowa had been together ever since.

 

A sharp crack rebounded around the room, and Quatre let out a sharp wail out of reflex. It had been more sound than sting, but it had knocked him out of his thoughts. He tugged ineffectively at the leather cuffs that encircled his wrists, connected to the headboard of the bed with a length of chain. It was long enough that he could roll to his front or back without putting strain on his shoulders, but other than that, he didn’t have much freedom.

“Glad to see you back with me,” Trowa’s deep voice intoned, a chuckle following soon afterwards.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about how much I love your hands,” Quatre admitted sheepishly at being caught day dreaming.

“Oh really? Tell me more,” Trowa ordered, looking much taller as he sat, Quatre’s naked lower half sprawled across his lap.

He knew how to play Quatre so well after three years. His hand came up to cup the cheek he’d slapped, his palm covering about half of it without even trying, fingers splaying to tease at the rest. Quatre let out a little moan, his eyes falling to slits as he arched his hips up, pressing his flesh harder into the hand that touched him.

“Was thinking about how I love you touching me. Your hands are so big. It makes me feel safe and aroused whenever you touch me. Even just your hand on my lower back will make me hot,” he gasped out, feeling a lubricated finger push into him with no warning, his hole greedily clutching at it.

“Just my hands?” Trowa asked, watching with unabashed pleasure as Quatre tried to rock his hips onto his finger.

“N-no!” He squeaked out. “Standing in front of you, hugging you around your waist because I can only reach your neck if you lean down and I stand on my toes. Your arms wrapped around me like a jacket.”

Trowa let out a low groan, sliding his finger in and out of Quatre’s hole, eyes drawn to that little ring of flesh. Quatre gave him so much, and asked for so little in return. These times that he let Trowa tease and torment him… It was just as good for both of them. A mutual need fulfilled.

“You just like being overpowered. Helpless. Knowing that even if you said no, I could just hold you down.” 

As he spoke, he shifted, sliding Quatre off his lap and onto the sheets below. Rising up onto his knees, he spread Quatre’s thighs open more with his free hand, grinning down at the pale back underneath him. Pressing a second finger inside, crooked them, searching for his lover’s prostate. When he found it, Quatre screeched in pleasure, hips rutting into the bed as he desperately sought stimulation on his neglected cock. Trowa brought a hand down with lightning speed, putting a moderate amount of force behind it, watching as it connected with the pink tinged flesh of Quatre’s ass. The blonde let out another noise, hands curling into fists as he struggled to either fight the sensations assaulting him, or just roll with them.

“You love knowing that one minute I can go from sweetly caressing you to manipulating your body for both our pleasure. Fucking you up against a wall, me the only thing holding you up as you cling to me. Your arms and legs wrapped around my body as I fuck you into an incoherent mess.”

Quatre was sobbing now, desperate for more, for anything. He was so needy. Trowa had tied him up and teased him for what felt like hours, touching him, displaying himself. Quatre had to watch as Trowa had stripped naked, every plane and dip of muscle revealed, before he’d curled his hand around his own cock, jerking himself off while all Quatre could do was beg for those hands on him.

“Yes Trowa! Yes, you know I love it all. I love giving myself over to you. Letting you touch me and drive me wild. Until I don’t know which way is up,” he gasped out, getting his knees underneath himself to change the angle of Trowa’s thrusting fingers.

“Tell me that you love me using you like this. That you like fighting it at first, until you succumb to your desires and submit to me, and what my body can do to you,” Trowa growled out, removing his fingers to search out the lube from the sheets.

“Yes! Please yes Trowa. Fuck me fuck me!’ Quatre sobbed, hair clinging to his face with sweat as he looked over his shoulder at his lover.

That look was his undoing. He lifted Quatre’s hips up until he was in perfect position, watching him shift his arms to help take his weight, fingers laced together in the pillow above his head. Using one hand to guide himself to Quatre’s hole, he pushed, savoring the delicious heat and pressure. He hadn’t stretched Quatre as well as he could have, but they both knew that Quatre enjoyed it like this sometimes. He liked playing the helpless victim, with that edge of pain. It skirted that fine line between reality and fantasy that Trowa only encouraged.

Quatre howled as he was penetrated, upper body thrashing against the sensations that wracked his body, like being burned alive. Without even leaning down, Trowa put his free hand on the back of Quatre’s neck and pushed. He was insistent about it, and Quatre took the hint. He turned his face to the side so he could breathe, and went with it. His head was between his arms, eyes closed in sexual overload. With one arm holding Quatre’s lower body in positon, his other pinning his lover down by the scruff of his neck, Trowa set a brutal pace.

He’d teased them both for too long with touches and kisses and vulgar words. It was time for action, and he gave Quatre no respite. He was relentless, pounding into Quatre with all his strength, using his hips and thighs to push as deep as he could get. It was rough and quick, skin on skin slapping in a brutal pace. He used his superior strength to hold Quatre in place and fuck him, like they both wanted him to do. Quatre was beyond words. All he could do was cry out, tears of need streaking down his face as he felt himself growing closer and closer to his peak. With such a desperate need on both of their ends, it didn’t take Quatre long to scream out his orgasm as Trowa’s cock pounded into and over his prostate in an endless rhythm. He came in quick spurts across the sheets underneath him, his entire body seizing up. He jerked as much as he was allowed to, given the hands still pinning him in his splayed position. Trowa followed him into oblivion, grunting as he emptied himself inside of Quatre, his hands gripping just that bit tighter as his orgasm robbed him of his senses. There might be finger shaped bruises the following morning, but Quatre would wear them with pride as he always did. When he’d finally gained control of himself, he carefully slipped himself from Quatre’s body, watching with a satisfied smirk at the trickle of come that dribbled out of his lover’s well-fucked hole.

“Be right back,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Quatre’s head before he slipped off the bed and padded into the bathroom.

He filled the tub with hot water and a mixture of Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil, letting it fill most of the way before he shut it off. Quatre hadn’t moved, and looked every inch like a fallen angel. He was flushed and sweaty, hair matted to his face, wrists bound with black leather, face buried in the sheets, with come dripping from his ass. Oh, he made such a picture. Trowa grabbed his cell phone to snap a quick picture, knowing Quatre wouldn’t mind that much. Trowa looking at that image was sure to cultivate a repeat performance, and the blonde would be more than willing to participate. 

Quatre was practically asleep as Trowa unbound his wrists and gently rolled the smaller man to his back. Carefully scooting his arms underneath, Trowa picked him up in a bridal carry and brought him into the bathroom, settling them both into the hot water. Quatre came awake, practically purring as the water hit him. He settled between Trowa’s legs, twisting so his back was smooshed against his lover’s chest, his head nestled on a pectoral muscle.

“I love it when you take care of me,” he whispered, eyes shifting closed as he let the water and salt work its magic on him.

“You just like me because I’m a life size teddy bear. Without all the hair,” Trowa laughed out, hands coming up from Quatre’s sides to gently massage at his shoulders and neck to work out the tension from being bound for so long.

“Keep talking to Duo and coming up with bear jokes. I swear, I’ll take you to a gay bar and make you watch me pick up a real bear,” he joked, head rolling as he gave himself over to the massage and those oh so talented fingers.

“You don’t like the hair. Try it, and I’ll really work you over. Hours tied up, under me and my hands, doing only what I make you do,” Trowa whispered into Quatre’s ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“Maybe I want that. I like you acting all jealous and cave-man like,” Quatre teased.

Trowa laughed at him and dipped his head down to capture Quatre’s swollen lips up in another kiss, effectively silencing them both.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://moonsandrock.tumblr.com/)


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